


Alone

by ThanksForListening



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: F/M, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, violence? i guess but it's not very explicit or descriptive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 15:24:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThanksForListening/pseuds/ThanksForListening
Summary: After discovering that she's the princess Anastasia, Anya remembers her family and the night they all died.





	Alone

# Alone

When Anya closed her eyes, there was a gun in her face. She’d seen it before, experienced a hazy version of this memory for years, but tonight everything was in high definition: the hand clutching the pistol in front of her, the whimpers of her sisters behind her, the faces of her family around her. Memories filled the cellar until there was no air left to breathe. There were no strangers here.

Her father spoke first. “Your concerns are with me. Leave my family out of our politics” 

“They’re Romanov,” the guard spat. 

“Please,” her mother begged, “they’re only children.” 

“So are the people starving on the streets while you hide away in your palace!” 

More men filled the cellar. Anastasia thought time was supposed to slow down before you die, but everything was moving too quickly. Behind her, one of her sisters desperately whispered a prayer. Anastasia tried to turn to her but she was paralyzed by the gun. It was as if she could see straight down the barrel, see the ridges on the bullet that would end her life at seventeen. 

Seventeen. A child forever. Was this her destiny? Maybe there was still time. Someone could be coming — a hero to rescue them, to stop this nightmare. This couldn’t be the end. She had dreams, dammit. Things she wanted to do, places she wanted to go, people she wanted to meet. It wasn’t fair. She’d never even gotten to see Paris. 

The guns cocked, one by one. The family stopped breathing as the sound echoed across the cellar. Death had come. Their fate was sealed -- no one was coming to save them. Her brother’s sobs broke the silence, and she forced herself to turn toward him. As he met her gaze, she smiled, ignoring the tears running down her face. Her sweet Alexei. He out of all of them deserved to survive this night. 

She reached for him as the guard yelled, “For Russia!” 

Anya woke up screaming. The room was red and there were bodies on the floor and the shots wouldn’t stop booming, over and over and over again. She and her parents and brother and sisters all screamed as one until only her voice remained. A guard reached for her, and she threw herself across the room before she finally heard his voice. 

“Anya! Anya it’s ok! It was just a dream! Anya, look at me!” 

When she opened her eyes, she found herself in the corner of her hotel room, Dmitry in front of her. She saw him talk, but she only heard gunshots and the voice in her head screaming _they’re gone, they’re gone, they’re gone._

“Who’s gone?” He asked. 

“My mother. My father. Alexei. They’re gone. Oh my god, they’re all gone.”

“I know, Anya. I’m so sorry.” He reached for her, but she grabbed him first. 

“No! You don’t understand. They’re gone. They’re my family and I remember — I remember dancing and Christmas and playing tricks. I remember my mother’s hugs and my brother’s laugh. I remember them! They’re not just voices anymore Dmitry, and they’re _gone_.” 

She choked on the last word. Dmitry held her as she sobbed, rubbing his hand up and down her back. Memories flashed by with each breath she took. She cried for their lives, cried for the pain they felt in their final moments on earth. She cried for herself — for not being with them, for having to carry this weight, for the overwhelming shame she felt for ever forgetting them in the first place. Foolish, she was so foolish. She had been so desperate to remember that she forgot to be afraid of what remembering might mean. 

“I want to go back,” she cried, the words muffled by Dmitry’s body. “I don’t want to know this pain anymore. Please, I want to go back.” 

He hugged her tighter. “I know,” he said, “I’m so sorry, Anya. I’m so sorry”.

“Why did I live?” she asked, face still pressed against his chest. “Why me? It shouldn’t have been me, I-- I don’t want it to be me.”

For an instant Dmitry went stiff, his hand frozen on the middle of her back. He said nothing, but took a shaky breath before continuing the repetitive rubbing motion, holding her as she grieved the family she’d forgotten she had.

Eventually her sobs calmed. She stayed in his arms, tears still making their way down her cheeks. “They’re gone,” she whispered, “I have no family. I’m all alone.”

“Hey,” Dmitry said. He cupped her face in his hands, bringing her gaze up toward him. “You have your GrandMama now, and you have Vlad and Lily, and you have me, always. Don’t ever think you’re alone, Anya.” 

She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “I miss them,” she whimpered, “and not just the idea of them.” 

He pulled her closer. “Believe me, Anya, if I could do anything to make this better for you, I would.”

She almost smiled. Her Dima. Always trying to save her, even from herself. Anya fought the urge to cry again; instead, she put her hand on his shoulder. “Just being here is enough.” 

He looked down at her and smiled. Standing up, he reached his arms out, lifting her from their spot on the floor. As they walked back to her bed, she could tell he wanted to say something. Even as he sat down with her, his hand was forming a fist, squeezing and releasing nothing over and over again. It was a habit she picked up on during their wild adventure to Paris, something she wasn’t sure he was even aware of. 

“Hey,” she said, “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s, um,” he stammered, his head hunched, his eyes glued to his lap. “I just -- I don’t want you to ever feel like you shouldn’t be here. Like you don’t deserve to be here. Because you do. God, Anya, you deserve everything good this life has to offer. I just want to make sure you know that.”

She reached for his hand, and as he grabbed it he brought his eyes up to meet hers. “I love you,” she said, “more than I ever thought was possible. I couldn’t do this without you.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I love you too” he said. He stood, wiping a tear away when he thought she couldn’t see him. 

When Dmitry was halfway to the door, she called out “Stay with me,” then added, “Please”. He turned back toward her and nodded, making his way to her side. She moved over as he got in next to her, turning so they each faced the same direction. 

For a minute neither of them moved. Anya laid in bed, staring at the music box on her night stand. He didn’t make a sound, but she knew he was still awake. The silence hung between them until she whispered, “I’m not sure why I’m the one that’s still here. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop wondering, if I’ll ever stop questioning why I was spared. But I know that when I’m with you, I forget to ask. So thank you. You remind me to live, Dmitry.” 

He pulled her closer, until there was no space between them. “You remind me to live too, Anya. Every single day you remind me that there is good in this world.” 

She turned over and kissed him, taking her time to memorize every part of him -- the way he closed his eyes slowly, as if he didn’t want to stop looking at her, the way he put his hand on the side of her face, the way their bodies moved as one. She never wanted to forget him, never wanted to forget how she finally felt safe when she was with him. She wondered, as she pulled away from his embrace and turned back toward her nightstand, if this was what her mind was waiting for, if she couldn’t remember her family until she had found another one. 

Anya closed her eyes. The echoes of her family, of their terror, whispered to her in the dark, but that’s all they were: echoes, remnants of voices that were silenced years ago. She couldn’t do anything for them now, no matter how badly she wanted to. Their pain would forever be immortalized in her mind, but so would Dmitry’s laugh, and her Nona’s voice, and one day they would be louder than the screams. Of that she was certain.

Tomorrow night, her family would come back. They’d haunt her dreams, but she’s survived a nightmare— she was strong enough to handle dreams, especially when she didn’t have to face them alone. With Dmitry at her side, she opened her eyes, wound up the music box, and let her lullaby put them to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever fanfic so please let me know what you think!!!! Comment or find me on tumblr (@thanks--for--listening) and if you want me to write more Anastasia stuff (or other stuff) let me know bc this was super fun and I will definitely try and make time for it if i know people want me to


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